


Man on the Moon (he's not coming down anytime soon)

by Floralgruuunge



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cassian Andor-centric, Developing Relationship, F/M, POV Cassian Andor, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Rogue One, RebelCaptain Appreciation Week, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Yavin 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-02-12 21:49:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12969102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Floralgruuunge/pseuds/Floralgruuunge
Summary: In a world where Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso managed to survive the Death Star's fatal blast, the two, now back at alliance headquarters, must reconcile what happened between them on the base at Scarif.





	1. Chapter 1 - Nobody saw us for seven days

Elevated pulse. Shortness of breath. Flexing and unflexing hands. Beads of sweat on his forehead. Even the wooden bench in the medical bay that he sat upon seemed harder now than ever as he felt pricks of pain as the muscles tensed in his lower back. These were all signs and symptoms of what Cassian Andor knew to be his flight or fight response – it had single-handedly saved his life earlier that week when he had gunned down the pair of stormtroopers in the alleyway on Kafrene. Normally, the adrenaline heightened his senses and pushed him towards swift and efficient decision-making, something that Cassian found both pleasing and gratifying.

But, today was different. In fact, most days had been different since Jyn Erso’s unexpected arrival in the War Room last week. Her presence perplexed him in a way nothing had before. People always came easily to Cassian. Not that he’d ever been one to make friends – he was always too busy reading his colleagues' micro-expressions, predicting their next word, next move. Yet Jyn was seemingly unreadable. Perhaps it was her past, her history as a child soldier that concealed her thoughts from him. To Cassian, she was a mission without a foreseeable outcome; a question without a definitive answer; two unfamiliar hands intertwined in Death’s wake. He could still feel her heart pounding against his chest. Had he really held her that clos–

“Captain Andor.” A gruff voice jolted Cassian back to reality. He looked up to find General Draven’s severe face: two dark bags hanging under piercing blue eyes, wispy hair combed to hide a receding hairline, and three hard lines that appeared to be engraved into the general’s forehead and were always visible even when, Cassian had found, the rest of Draven’s face lacked expression entirely.

“I was told I would find you here. Erso’s finally woken up. Thought you might want to know. Anyhow, she’s in room thirty, bay three. However, one of the droids told me to tell you that…”

 _Thought you might want to know._ The voice inside Cassian’s head scoffed at Draven’s cluelessness. He had, without a doubt, been _dying_ to know. Ever since their arrival on Yavin 4, Cassian had checked the status of Jyn Erso’s condition a “total of twenty-two times in three days,” a fact that an annoyed 2-1B droid used in an attempt to shame the captain into leaving the waiting area. He had left, for dignity’s sake, but within minutes, shame and embarrassment melted into hot frustration as he reached his living quarters.

_What had been taking them so long?_

The fact that they had survived the Death Star’s initial blast had been a miracle, probably an act of one of the gods, none of which Cassian had ever bothered to learn about. Or maybe, it had been The Force. _What a ridiculous conclusion._ At any rate, he knew their situation had been dire; the urgency in Kes Dameron’s voice as he and Captain Bey had loaded him and Jyn onto the ship had told him that much.

“Punch it, Shara. We need to get there and stat or they’re not gonna mak–”

“I know, I _know_.”

The last thing Cassian remembered before losing all consciousness was the burning sensation of Jyn’s necklace (she had managed to tie it around his neck before the jump to hyperspace) against his skin. Oddly enough, her necklace, still around his neck, began to warm yet again, as if responding to the playback in his head.

“...that she is still coming off of a number of medications given to her at the start of the procedure, so she might not be all the way there.” Draven paused and took a deep breath, a something Cassian could only deduce to be a nervous tic – the general only did it when he was about to tell Cassian something he didn’t want to hear.

“While I understand you and Erso have spent some time together, you directly disobeyed orders by infiltrating the imperial base on Scarif. Admiral Raddus has been reported dead and Princess Leia, who was aboard Tantive IV, is now missing. We have not received schematics of this so-called “Death Star” you and Erso spoke about.”

Cassian felt his face grow hot as he quickly jumped up from the bench to defend himself.

“We transmitted them! I was there, I saw it happen with my own two eyes,” he insisted angrily.

“I don’t _care_ if you saw it happen, Captain Andor,” Draven shot back. “Your actions have _consequences_! You endangered the lives of dozens of useful Alliance operatives and now, that same Alliance is one step away from total dissolution. Do you know what that means?”

“Of course I know what that means!” Cassian seethed. It was always Draven’s empty rhetorical questions that made Cassian’s normally manageable temper escalate.

“Good. Then you’ll understand why I have proposed a hearing in regards to your suspension, and possibly your permanent termination as intelligence officer. Senator Mothma is reviewing my proposal as we speak.”

Cassian froze. Draven used this moment to deliver his final blow.

“Quite frankly, whatever relationship you have developed with the Erso girl has jeopardized your once sound rationale, Captain.”

Cassian felt his hands ball into fists at his sides. _Low-blow, even for you, Draven. Pinche viejo estúpido._ Nevertheless, he knew letting his anger take the bait would only support Draven’s accusations. He waited a few seconds before he spoke and let the years of interrogation and negotiation training take over.

“There is no _relationship_ , General,” Cassian said cooly, eyes narrowed. “She had substantial evidence, and I believed that evidence. I did what was necessary and what you and the rest of the council were _afraid_ to do.”

Draven was fuming now. Cassian felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward. Although Draven was a formidable verbal adversary, Cassian always managed to find the chip in the older man’s shoulder.

“This is NOT about bravery or honor, Captain Andor...” Before Draven could finish, the intercom above them chimed: “General Draven to landing pad 5. General Draven, landing pad 5. Draven sighed.

“This conversation isn’t over.. Hopefully it will continue with a much more _official_ audience present.”

“ _Hopefully_ ,” Cassian muttered as he watched Draven walk away. As his anger faded, it suddenly dawned on him: the Rebellion hadn’t received the plans so many of his comrades had died for. He felt the familiar pang of the hollowness inside his chest. Sights, sounds and smells flashed before him: the screams of a child caught under the wheel of an imperial tank, the burning of Tivik’s flesh, Kaytoo’s metal frame riddled with bullet holes, Bodhi, Chirrut and Baze reduced to ash by the battle station’s burning green light –

Before the hollowness could totally engulf him, Cassian began walking swiftly, his eyes fixed on the sign at the end of the hallway that read “Bay 3.” He needed to find Jyn. He needed to make sure that at least, she was okay.

*********

“Oooh-bah,” hummed a medic droid as it changed the dressings on Jyn Erso’s left arm. She winced and thought about swatting it away, but the pain radiating throughout her body prevented even the slightest movement of turning her head to assess the damage. She had been badly burned, she knew that much. But what Jyn didn’t know was how she had managed to survive.

It had all happened so fast.

The green light had almost met the shoreline; she had felt its uncomfortable heat beginning to scald her cheek. She remembered pulling him closer and closer to her until she could smell the familiar smokiness of blaster residue on his neck and clothes. What should have been her last thought was of him:

_Please let it be swift and painless. If not for me, then for him. May the Force be with him._

And it was.

It had been too bright for Jyn to tell where the white light erupted from, but she had felt something envelop her and Cassian. The roar of the water and debris crashing around them had been deafening, but still, Jyn was sure she had heard faint echoes, whispers even of what Chirrut, who was then only a stranger to her, had called out several days before: “The strongest stars have hearts of Kyber.”

 The memory set into motion the same mental spiral she experienced just thirty minutes before, when the anesthesia had just begun to wear off.

Why hadn’t anyone come to see her? What was taking them so long?

Maybe there was, in fact, no one to see her. Had Cassian too managed to survive? Surely not. She hadn’t seen him since the flight. She remembered pleading with one of their rescuers (Shara, was it?) once they were aboard the ship. Had she not seen Cassian’s condition?

“We’re at max speed Erso,” Shara had explained, trying to remain patient. “This is no x-wing. I need you to sit down and calm down. Kes?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you talk to Erso here for me? We’re about to pull in half a parsec out and I need to focus so we don’t draw any unwanted attention to ourselves.”

Jyn was never one to make small talk, especially not with strangers. Kes, on the other hand, was what Jyn would describe with overt irritation as “chatty.” She had resigned herself to letting Kes ramble on while she listened to Cassian’s belabored breathing in the background. She had lost him once and he had found his way back to her. Was she prepared to lose him again?

The medic droid’s mechanical fingers clinking against the glass of the needle interrupted her train of thought. It gently took her right arm and pumped her hand into a fist several times before finding a vein suitable enough for an injection.

“This may sting a bit, Miss Erso, but it will help with the pain,” it said flatly in a superficial attempt to reassure her. Jyn groaned, not only out of pain, but also out of annoyance. The medication softened the acute awareness that pain always gave her with its sweet, dense fog. Given the chance, Saw would have openly rebuked her for allowing such pampering after battle.  
  
The liquid from the needle burned Jyn’s skin, but only for a moment. Soon, the droid’s quiet chant ceased to bother her as she sank into the bliss of nothingness.

*********

“If you insist, Captain Andor, but I have just administered her medication. She’s not fully cognizant.” Although the droid’s face appeared blank, Cassian could tell it was annoyed. He had years of experience with K2-SO to thank for that.

“That’s fine. I just want to see her,” Cassian replied curtly. The droid seemed to pick up on his urgency.

“Suit yourself, Captain. Room thirty. Now if you would excuse me, I have other patients to attend to.” The droid turned sharply and rolled away down the long corridor.

Cassian turned to reach for the door’s handle and hesitated. He chuckled bitterly under his breath.

_What are you doing? Your honor is at stake. More importantly the Rebellion is at stake! And what for? A girl you met only a week ago? What on earth could she possibly want from you? After all you’ve done? You tried to kill her father, for Kriff’s sake!! What happens when she finds out who you really are? She already knows you are a liar. But oh, you’re so much more than that. What about Cassian the thief? Cassian the saboteur? Cassian the murderer?_

His hand, still gripping the doorknob, began to shake. He fought back the tears that threatened to fall down his face. He heard the blind warrior’s words in his head more clearly now than ever before.

_There is more than one sort of prison, Captain. I sense you carry yours wherever you go._

He was indeed a prisoner, a victim of his own actions. He knew this all too well. It was one of the few facts he preferred _not_ to dwell on, as it called into question his motives, his rationale, the framework upon which he based all thought. With no framework, there was no thought and with no thought no decision and with no decision, no action. To accept this fact would surely break him, or worse: burn a gaping hole of uncertainty in the vast forest of his mind.

And above all, Cassian Andor despised uncertainty —almost as much as he despised relying on other people. People were fickle, changeable, weak ... and, in Cassian’s mind, easily manipulated. To both Draven and Senator Mothma’s dismay, each individual prior to Kaytoo that had been assigned to Cassian either resigned or requested reassignment within the first two months for the same reason: it wasn’t a matter of disliking the Captain, they simply had realized that intelligence fieldwork just “wasn’t for them.”

Yet, Cassian had carried out his last mission with the most uncertain person he had ever met. Jyn Erso had been full of fire, a wildfire that given the opportunity, would have burnt him to the ground. This small, but powerful fire, Cassian had observed, was both her strongest weapon and greatest weakness. What puzzled him further was that Jyn did nothing to hide it, letting it leak out of her again and again, warming and even lighting those around her.

He had tasted her fire in the heat of the words “you might as well be a stormtrooper.” He’d seen the fire’s strength as it had propelled her small frame from the ledge onto the data tower. He had heard it in her voice, calling his name, as he had lost his grip and fell down, down, down for what had seemed like an eternity until the pain from the impact was too great to withstand; he had lost consciousness the second he hit the floor.

At that moment, it dawned on him: it had been that same fire that had shaken him awake and carried his broken body to her. The same fire that had been inside Jyn Erso all this time now burned in him – and, to Cassian’s surprise, there was no pain. The only pain he now felt was at the thought of the cold he would be left with if his own newborn fire, still unsteady and unreliable, went out.

And with a sharp exhale, Cassian Andor, a man once resigned to a prison of his own design, pushed open the door of room thirty, bay three, still unsure if the warmth he was feeling was his own or if it was from the crystal that was flush against his skin. All this time, underneath his uniform, was the necklace of a woman Cassian barely knew and now with time to spare, he could maybe come to know.


	2. Under the covers, your body a maze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you love him as much as I do, I'm sorry.

Jyn tried to focus her eyes on the opening door. Everything felt fuzzy. And then, she saw him standing in the doorway in the ratty leather jacket that she had once hated, messy dark hair, neatly-trimmed moustache.

_Is this a dream, or is it really him?_

Cassian’s face was flushed. It was a new look for him, one Jyn was unfamiliar with. She started to grin.

“Cassian… hi,” she said gaily, waving. Cassian couldn’t help but flash a feeble smile in return.

“Jyn. I—er…” _For Kriff's sake, pull it together!_

He couldn't.

“It’s…it’s good to see you," he exhaled, trying not to focus on the left half of her face.

His heart was racing for the second time today and he was unsure if it was just nerves or the fact that Jyn was badly injured; burn bandages on her face, arms and hands. He concluded swiftly that it was both.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Jyn slurred. Her mouth wasn’t working how she wanted it to. She had so many questions, but couldn’t seem to get any of them out. Perhaps nothing was important enough to ask about anyway.

“I didn’t either,” Cassian said softly. 

Cassian's throat felt tight. Was this all that was left of Jyn Erso? 

Neither of them knew what else to say. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he reached towards the back of his neck to untie her necklace, fumbling with the knot under the collar of his shirt.

“I, uh, have your necklace.” _Damn knot,_ he cursed as his fingers struggled with the black string, as if the necklace didn't want to leave him. 

He finally untied it and held it out to her, the crystal glittering in the warm light from the window. “You want it back, yes?”

Jyn giggled, a sound he never imagined coming out her mouth. He felt he fire inside him begin to shrink.

“You can hang on to it, _Captain_ _Andor_. Don’t go losing it,” she teased. “Anywaaay, I’m a little banged up, if you can’t see.” Wincing, Jyn held out both hands to show him the bandages, almost tangling herself in all the wires and medical lines attached to her skin.

“I can see,” Cassian responded, straining to not to frown. With care, he slipped the necklace into his breast pocket.

This was not how Cassian had calculated their reunion. It was supposed to be simpler than this.

He would calmly tell her everything that he was briefed on not thirty minutes ago. She would feel sad at the loss of their friends. He would comfort her (he hadn’t quite formulated a plan for this part). Then, he would invite her to continue the mission and locate the missing princess. She would accept, understanding the gravity of the situation, and they would find another ship to hijack first thing in the morning. Disobeying even more direct orders; Jyn would be proud of him for that.

Instead, he was left with a babbling idiot, a shell of a woman. Watching Jyn stare blankly out the window, Cassian wasn’t even sure if she knew where she was, let alone if she would be competent enough to listen. His patience was growing thin. The medical droid had been right; Cassian had gravely miscalculated. The fire shrunk even more.

“Okay, yes. I’ll do that,” he replied curtly. “I… I have to go now. Duty calls.” _Duty calls?_ Mentally kicking himself, Cassian made a beeline for the door.

Before he could leave, Jyn called to him weakly.

“Cassian?”

He looked back at her, meeting her gaze.

“Yes?”

Jyn smiled. “Thank you.”

Cassian nodded and shut the door behind him. He began walking absentmindedly, thoughts racing through his head at what felt like a parsec a minute.

 _What on earth could she be thanking me for? I’m the reason she’s injured. I shouldn’t have searched the Galactic Criminal Database, maybe she would have been fine, and if anyone could survive Wobani, it would be her. Maybe she could ha_ —

Cassian stopped himself, out of necessity. He was clearly too attached, too preoccupied. The captain hadn’t truly been concerned for another person in a decade, give or take a few years. With the exception of a few isolated incidents, those years had been the most emotionally stable time of Cassian’s short, twenty-six year existence.

He felt himself longing for Kay’s companionship; the droid would have surely set him straight. He could almost hear his friend’s berating tone: _If I must say, this is off-color of you, Cassian, and quite frankly, I find that you’re being ridiculous. Would you like to know the probability of Jyn Erso making a full recovery? My calculations estimate below fifteen percent._

The thought made the captain’s chest hurt. He was completely out of control and it made him physically sick; this pain quickened his pace to his quarters. He saw some familiar faces that welcomed him back from the suicide mission. Unsure of his facial expression, Cassian thanked them in passing, not really recognizing anyone in particular. His surroundings and actions began to blur together. His eyes burned more and more with each step.

Finally, he arrived at room 156, his private captain’s quarters, rushed in and slammed the door behind him. He exhaled sharply, looking around the nearly empty room. His cot was unmade, the lamp still on. To the right, on his desk, lay some tools, a manual with missing pages, and the disassembled A295 blaster Cassian had been working to modify before his sudden departure for the base on Scarif.

With both of his shaking hands, Cassian let out a guttural cry and cleared the desk in one swift movement. The metal pieces clattered on the concrete floor. Another cry, and the chair, too, toppled over. He slammed his fists down as hard as he could onto the wooden desk and grit his teeth in pain, letting his head hang only for a moment before he saw the first drop fall. Without warning, Cassian's knees gave way and he slumped to the floor, letting the tidal waves of grief crash down upon him.

The only time Cassian Andor had sobbed harder was the day his mother had died.


	3. I couldn't believe that, deep down inside

“Captain Andor,” a voice chuckled. “It’s nice of you to join us.”

Cassian looked around, anxiety building up inside of him — the owner of the voice was nowhere to be seen. The room smelled of gunpowder and sweat, the dirt floor was uneven, covered in pebbles and the remains of what appeared to be old bullet shells. The dark humidity was thick enough to make him gag. Some footsteps echoed faintly in the distance. 

He  _had_  to get out of here.

He began to run, but the further he ran, the longer the room became, stretching to contain him. He’d never seen anything like it. Running the other way also proved fruitless as he watched metal bars shoot up from the ground. Cassian shook them violently but they wouldn’t budge.  _Come on, come on, come on!_  There had to be a way out. He rummaged around in the pockets of his blue parka and groaned; they were empty.

“I hate to do this to you, Captain, but you’re not the easiest person to reach. Not from where I am at least.” The voice’s sympathy irked Cassian. If he was stuck here, he wasn’t going to make small talk — he wanted answers. 

“Who are you? What do you want with me?” he cried out.

Another chuckle. “You know who I am.”

The footsteps grew louder and the room grew brighter. He nearly jumped when something hard tapped his shoulder. Cassian spun around quickly, planning in his head what he would do next. He was without a blaster or any weapon for that matter, so hand-to-hand combat it would be. He would be very much out of his element, but something had to be done.

The voice must have known his plan. A warm hand caught his first jab and held it there firmly for a second before letting go. Cassian looked up to meet two clouded eyes, a shaven head and a cheeky grin.

“You don’t ever quit fighting, do you, Captain Andor?”

Chirrut. Cassian sighed half in relief, half in frustration. The monk rested a comforting hand for a moment on Cassian’s shoulder. Looking around once again, Cassian located the familiar outline of a citizen’s flight suit a few feet from where he and Chirrut stood. Baze Malbus looked much smaller without his repeater cannon strapped to his back. Maybe he didn’t need it here. He acknowledged Cassian with a nod and what faintly resembled a smile.

“Chirrut, Baze! What are you doing here? Where am I?”

Chirrut shrugged. “I am not sure, Captain. We don’t usually 'pick the place' so to speak.” He kicked a bullet shell on the ground and took in a deep breath as if he were smelling the air around them.

“However, if I’m not mistaken, I believe we are in Saw Gerrera’s quarters on my home planet of Jedha, where I first sensed you and your troubles,” Chirrut explained. “Funny how the Force works sometimes, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…funny.” Cassian looked about again and all at once, his surroundings became familiar to him. The bars had shrunk down to the door he’d broken them out of a week ago and the members of Saw’s battalion appeared instantly, quarreling and laughing like they had been there the entire time.

Cassian peered through the smaller bars of the window only to find the adjacent cell empty. 

“Where’s Bodhi?”

Chirrut chuckled again. “With you, always, just as we are.”

_Whatever that means._ Cassian sure hadn’t felt like it. Without Kay by his side, he had felt alone these last few days more than ever before.

“You will find a way to bring your droid back,” Chirrut reassured him. “Even so, the Force always returns what is lost, sometimes in the most unexpected ways. Do not wait until your last waking moments to receive the gift it has already given you.” 

The monk quickly shot a look of contempt at his friend who was leaning against the rugged dirt wall behind them.

“What?” Baze grumbled, unfazed. Chirrut let out a sigh and turned to face a perplexed Cassian again.

“A gift?” Cassian asked. “What do you mean? I haven’t received any gifts... and, you still haven’t told me why you’re here!”

Baze scoffed.

“Amateur,” he muttered under his breath, but just loud enough so both Cassian and Chirrut could hear.

“Now now, Baze,” Chirrut chided in turn. “It was not so long ago, my dear friend, that your heart too was just as rigid and immutable as his.”

_Rigid? Immutable?_  Hot impatience filled Cassian to the point where he felt it begin to bubble over. He didn’t have time for another one of their lover’s quarrels.

“Will one of you please tell me why you’re here! _”_ The captain barked.

Another shrug. “I don’t know, Cassian,” Chirrut said softly, almost whispering. “ _You_  were the one who asked for us.” This time, Baze was the one who was laughing — and he didn’t stop.

Cassian gasped and shot straight up from his cot. His feet were sweating in his boots; he had fallen asleep fully dressed.

_Some dream that was._

He’d had worse. The dream would be an easy one to forget. 

Clearing his mind, Cassian stripped down to the essentials and laid back down on his cot. He fumbled around in his jacket for Jyn’s necklace and without thinking, he tied it around his neck. It was an odd little thing; the closer the crystal was to him, the better the captain found himself feeling. He pulled the scratchy military-grade blanket over his body and shut his eyes.

_It’s just for safekeeping._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta have that dream sequence tho.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian assumes General Draven's position. Mon Mothma visits the freezing base on Hoth and runs into an old friend and confidant in the War Room.

Months passed. Jyn Erso was showing signs of improvement. Cassian Andor _reportedly_ knew nothing of her current condition. With the reinstatement (and to Cassian’s delight, subsequent elevation) of his title, the now-General Andor was too busy to care about such trivial things… or so he told himself. He had finally accomplished the task he set out to do at the tender age of sixteen, after learning everything he could from then-Captain Davits Draven: _to replace him_. In lieu of the Death Star’s recent destruction, Draven, to Cassian’s surprise, graciously stepped down without the slightest complaint. As always, Cassian bore the Rebellion’s atrocities well, as if he had been trained his entire life to do so (a fact about Cassian that few knew). He had even ventured out into the field several times, something which Draven had never done over the course of the last six years. If Cassian felt like any of his agents couldn’t get the job done “right,” he simply extracted the information himself. Success after success brought in more willing to fight for their cause. The Rebellion was finally thriving with what little resources that were available to them. People smiled more at each other, even in the bitter cold of the snow-covered corridors. Sometimes, laughter could be heard in the living quarters. To the relief of many, Han Solo finally reinstated his clandestine Sabacc nights. This was indeed _hope_.

In her last few visits to the base, Mon Mothma could tell that there was something different in the air. It warmed her to see the men and women who fought for their cause in good humor. On her last visit, however, Mon saw that not everyone felt the same way. He was pacing in the war room when she found him. Alone, of course. His arms were folded neatly behind his back; he appeared to be deep in thought.

“You know, General Andor, there are sleeping quarters built into Echo base for a reason,” Mon chided him gently.

Cassian turned to face her. He did, in fact, look different from what she remembered; his hair was unkempt and the bags under his eyes looked even darker than before.

Cassian’s attempt at a smile looked more like a weak grimace. “It’s a pleasure to see you as well, Senator Mothma.”

“Oh don’t call me that,” she said, with a half-smile on her face, “it’s just Mon now, thanks to the Emperor’s recent dissolution of the entire senate.”

“Sorry, it’s habit,” Cassian said, inadvertently looking down at his feet. He didn’t know what to say next.

 Both were silent for a moment before Mon put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He waited for her to say something, like she usually did.

“You know it would hurt him to see you like thi—”

 _Anything but that._ His hands flexed involuntarily.

“Don’t,” he said, cutting her off and brushing her hand off of his shoulder. Cassian wasn’t thirteen anymore.

“You haven’t talked to anyone about it since—”

"Since when? Since he _died_?” Cassian seethed, "Vaporized!? Along with the rest of his home planet, right?”

Mon was quiet for a moment and then sighed. “Yes, that,” she said somberly. “He— Bail— would want you to let go. Start enjoying life again.”

Cassian tried to keep his face expressionless. “I’m _fine_ ,” he reassured her, “I promise. And, I— I’m also busy and drowning in paperwork. I hope you understand.”

He gestured to the blanket of files covering his desk.

“Of course. I’ll leave you to it.” Mon left the way she came. She didn’t get very far before Cassian called after her.

“Mon?” Cassian said so softly, it was as if he had whispered.

She stopped.

“I was out of line earlier. I’m sorry. Thank you, for everything, coming to see me and all.”

“You’re welcome, General Andor,” she called over her shoulder, smiling.

When Mothma was gone, Cassian's chest suddenly felt warm, warmer than usual. He clutched the necklace only to find it radiating heat. Cassian was overcome with the reassuring feeling that the man who had a direct hand in Cassian's upbringing was in the war room with him in that very moment.

After a minute or two, he chuckled bitterly to himself. 

_How ridiculous that would be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does not have a title from the song as it was a separate piece that I altered to go with this fic and is more of an interim chapter. I love developing Cassian in any way I can. Enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> The title/chapter titles are a reference to Zella Day's "Man on the Moon" from the official Star Wars Cassian Andor playlist.


End file.
